


Lieutenant Porter

by erudessa



Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1207777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudessa/pseuds/erudessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Catherine is the daughter of the Earl of Exeter who is disguised as Lieutenant Henry Porter. When she is commissioned as fifth lieutenant aboard the HMS Renown, she unexpectedly runs into Archie Kennedy, a former confidant and childhood friend. The past, present mixes into an uncertain future for both...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lieutenant Porter of the Royal Navy appeared to be any ordinary lieutenant. But his ordinariness hides an intriguing secret, perhaps only to be revealed by the small slight figure or the somewhat more delicate features of the face.  This certain lieutenant may not be that ordinary after all. He, or more appropriately she, was a woman, Lady Catherine under the astonishing guise of Lieutenant Jonathan Porter. Such a startling truth could be told but never guessed. In her six long years of service, no one has ever come close to the truth, something of which Catherine was very proud of.

 

Cathy felt sweat prickle the back of her neck and cursed her heavy woollen material of her lieutenant disguise climbed aboard the Renown with the ease only from practice. She glanced around the quarterdeck.

Cathy’s initial excitement of meeting her fellow officers was marred by a feeling of worry that settled over her mind when she saw the blond lieutenant.

She knew him. She knew him not as Lt. Henry Porter, but as who she really was, Lady Catherine Hudson, daughter of the earl of Exeter. Cathy pulled her cocked hat lower over her eyes. Pray that Archibald Kennedy would not recognize her. Cathy took a deep breath and murmured, “Since I started playing this game, I might as well play to the end.”

Cathy walked towards the three officers. She placed one foot in front of the other measuring nonchalantly.  Her walk betrayed nothing of her inner fears. She stopped in front of the group, briefly touching her hat to the lieutenants.

“Reporting for duty, sir, Lieutenant Henry Porter, fifth lieutenant,” said Cathy keeping her voice level and low.  

“Lt. Horatio Hornblower, third lieutenant, Mr Porter,” said the man with the curly hair solemnly and offered Cathy his hand. His eyes never left her face.

Cathy felt unnerved by those incomprehensible brown eyes. She was a good judge of people. But Hornblower’s expression was hard to comprehend. Not a trace of his previous merriment was evident on his face.

“Lt. Archie Kennedy, fourth lieutenant,” said Kennedy, offering his hand as well.

Cathy shook it as well, giving him a small smile careful not to meet his eyes. He didn’t seem to recognize who Lt. Porter really was. Cathy finally let out a breath.

“And you are?” Cathy glanced at the midshipman who almost immediately started to shift from foot to foot and said with forced bravado: “Wellard, sir.”

 Cathy nodded and smiled brightly, “Good to meet you, Mr. Wellard.”

“And you too, sir.” Wellard answered, stopping his nervous shifting.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Porter. It is a great pleasure to meet you. It is also great to know that I’m no longer the junior lieutenant on board,” said Kennedy giving her a dazzling smile.

Cathy started to roll her eyes, Kennedy never changed. But she immediately restrained herself.

“It is a pleasure as well, sir,” answered Cathy matching his smile with a crooked smile of her own. Addressing both of the officers, she said, “May I ask about the whereabouts of the first lieutenant, sir?”

“The captain would rather you reported directly to him, Mr. Porter,” replied Hornblower stiffly. At the mention of the captain his expression darkened.

Cathy nodded and arched one eyebrow. “Aye aye, sir.”

Most ships new officers only needed to report to the first lieutenant unless specifically requested by the captain. But Cathy soon dismissed it as being nothing. She slid past the three gentlemen towards the captain’s cabin. This was real. She was going to see Captain Sawyer, national hero of the Nile. Cathy raised her arm and knocked on the dark wooden door, anticipation building up in her mind.

*****

“Come in!” A sharp bark erupted from the cabin.

Cathy carefully removed her cocked hat from her head, tucking it under her arm as she emerged into the dim captain’s day cabin. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she noticed the Captain staring at her with dark beady eyes filled with suspicion across the great table dominating the small room.

The Captain was not a large man, but his commanding presence seemed to fill the entire cabin. He had a long hooked nose which gave him a hawk like look. Wispy hair that could have been blond but was now white could not be tamed by the black ribbon, framed his large face. His dark eyes which still held suspicion peered at her expectantly. He countenance was like that of a lion waiting to pounce on his unexpected prey.

Cathy straightened suddenly feeling self conscience. Her fingers had started to drum on her leg, a bad sign. She stared straight past the captain determined to look confident and unbowed in the presence of this imposing man.  She clenched her hands into fists.

 “Lieutenant Henry Porter, fifth lieutenant reporting for duty, sir.” Cathy found comfort in reciting these all too familiar lines. In those few phrases there was no room for judgment.

 “So,” he paused, leering at her down his nose. His expression still bore the look of suspicion he had earlier. “You are Lt. Porter, Captain Foster’s nephew? “

“Err..Yes sir.” Cathy was thrown completely off her guard by the surprising nature of this question.

“Captain Foster praised you most highly throughout the Admiralty and in his most recent letter to me,” said Sawyer. He imitated Foster in a high-pitched voice. “Lt Porter is an aspiring young officer. A highly capable man. A very clever man. He passed his examination for lieutenant with the best of praises.” He paused before continuing in his usual voice, “On and on and on. You are to prove to me that you are indeed the aspiring and capable officer your uncle claims you are.”

 Sawyer looked her up and down, sizing her up, taking in her small slight figure and most likely wondering how on earth Captain Foster would praise such a pathetic looking officer.

Cathy winced to herself, hoping the Captain did not sense her discomfort.

“Sir, I am afraid that I was unaware…..” 

Sawyer stuck his large nose right in front of Cathy’s face.

Cathy jumped before forcing herself to smile.

“It is my greatest pleasure to serve under a captain with such a reputation, sir.”

Sawyer’s lip twitched upwards.

Cathy could clearly see the contempt written all over his face.

“You are very deceitful, very deceitful, Mr. Porter,” muttered the Captain.  Suddenly, he barked. “Dismissed, Mr. Porter.”

Cathy jumped again.

“Aye aye, sir,” said Cathy meekly.

The sunlight and heat of the quarterdeck was blinding.

But Cathy was too engrossed in thinking about Captain Sawyer and his behaviour to notice. Captain Sawyer was weird, which the opposite of who the famous naval hero Cathy had come to expect. Cathy frowned, but everyone has their bad days. Sawyer was just having one of his most likely. Slowly, she made her way to Hornblower, Kennedy and Wellard all of whom were observing her quietly.

“Mr. Hornblower, Mr Kennedy, sir, and Mr. Wellard,” greeted Cathy, briefly touching her hat.

“You have just spoken to the captain, Mr. Porter?” asked Kennedy. He smiled pleasantly at her.

“Yes, sir. I have.” Cathy inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement. She noticed that Hornblower gave Kennedy a warning look which Kennedy steadfastly ignored. He continued.

“Have you met the Captain before?”

“I am afraid that I have never met the captain before, however I have heard of his achievements and reputation just like we all have, sir,” answered Cathy.  Hornblower was looking very dangerous.

“Then what do you think of him, if I may ask.”

Cathy smiled dryly. Kennedy was fishing, she knew it. She chose her words carefully and diplomatically.

“We have all heard about his accomplishments at sea and in battle as a fighting captain, however I believe I cannot yet make a judgment about the captain as a man only after speaking to him for barely five minutes, sir,” replied Cathy slowly.

Shouts and curses erupted from the mess deck below. There were some grunts from someone then cheering rose. Kennedy opened his mouth to ask Cathy another question.

Cathy groaned a fight amongst the hands.

Hornblower who seemed to reach the same conclusion as Cathy, broke in before Kennedy could interrogate her any further about Sawyer.

“Mr. Wellard, see what is going on below decks before it brings the captain on us again,” muttered Hornblower.

“Aye aye, sir.”

 Hornblower glared at Kennedy who finally closed his mouth. Silence surrounded the three lieutenants on the quarterdeck only to be broken by the scuffle below decks. Cathy continued to stare forward observing the activity that on the deck below. The noise from the mess deck grew louder instead of softer. Wellard wasn’t succeeding.  

“I think I will go help Mr. Wellard, sir,” said Cathy finally, breaking the silence.

“Yes.” Hornblower nodded. Cathy walked calmly below. The shouts and cheers of the crew became even louder as she drew nearer to the fight.

Below decks, everything was a mess. The noise caused by the brawl seemed twice as loud inside the close quarters. All the crew members were pushing in around the fighters to find the best position to see the fight. Wellard was trying pitifully to tell them to stop.

Cathy pushed roughly through the crowd. Not noticing the lieutenant cocked hat on her head in their midst, the men jostled and pushed her about. Cathy groaned, she was going to have bruised ribs by the time this was finished. She wanted to pull out her pistol and shoot whoever was fighting. Taking in a deep breath, she shouted,

“SILENCE!”

Pushing roughly through the throng of bodies, she stood in front of the two fighters. She gave them a venomous glare.

One of them, reminded her of a rat. His teeth protruded out of his lips and this mouth was slightly pouted also like that of a rat. Even his heavily scarred cheeks added to his rat likeness. The other man was arrogant, with such a large ego that impasses his status.

“Now, what is this about?” she demanded. The arrogant man guffawed loudly in disrespect.

“Let’s say a light bit difference of opinions, you might say.” Cathy’s anger flared.

“You will address me as sir, now what is your name?” barked Cathy. “The captain shall hear of this, have no doubts and the two of you would both be punished, severely.”

“Randel.”

She turned to go. But someone else, a gunner by his uniform was not finished.

“The captain likes his men to have some bare knuckle sometimes. Keeps them ready for the real thing, sir.” The ‘sir’ was full of contempt.

“But you have disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer,” said Cathy, gesturing at Wellard next to her. She glared at him.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Hornblower’s voice rang out.

“And the punishment for that is death.” Silence greeted her words.  

Cathy gave the two men another glare before passing through the crew back onto the quarterdeck.  

On the quarterdeck, Sawyer was already there. He gave the three lieutenants as they came up a hard look.

“It does not take three lieutenants to settle a brawl between the hands,” he barked. “You are here to keep order. But what use are you to me when not one of you but all three of you are needed just to settle one brawl. You are all a lazy and incapable bunch.”

Cathy opened her mouth to defend herself and the others who stood stiffly beside her. But she closed it again.

Sawyer glanced at them again, “Now! Get back to your watch, all of you!”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Cathy muttered.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

 “Aye, aye, sir.”

Sawyer unwaveringly ignored them while they made their way to the back of the quarterdeck. He glanced imperiously at the sails and riggings.

“Mr. Buckland, get the ship under way,” Sawyer ordered.

“Loosen, topsails!” Buckland shouted. Men immediately started to scale the shrouds and the order echoed around the ship. 

 Cathy glanced at the yardarms.

The wind picked up, billowing the sails.  


	2. Chapter 2

It was always noisy aboard a ship. The constant creaking of the timbers, the flapping of the canvas, the lapping of the waves against the hull. Even on such a calm night noises resonated all around in the ship. The din of a boisterous crew made feeble attempts to break into the dark panelled officer’s wardroom.

Here sat Catherine, sharing dinner with the other senior officers. She felt distinctly the different between these meals on the Renown and her other commissions. Maybe it was something she had to be used to. On the sloop, the HMS Charlotte, wardroom addressed each other by first names, enjoyed each other’s presence and a captain who was fonder of his wine than of canings or the gratings. Even on the Dreadnought, Captain Foster’s loud voice was sure to echo around the cabin, warming it up. But here on the Renown the air in the wardroom was stifling. Not just the type from lack of fresh air below decks but the type that constricts Catherine’s very mind and heart that gave the feeling the walls was constantly pressing in upon her. This feeling of being trapped was something she hadn’t felt for a very long time.

Catherine speared a piece of salt beef swimming in dark brown sauce. The table was silent except for the quite clinking of the metal against ceramic. All conversation has ceased. The first lieutenant, Mr. Buckland, had made the feeble attempt to welcome the newly arrived second, a certain Mr. Bush and Catherine. Mr. Bush was naturally silent, treating everything with an aloofness even Catherine had to admire. Catherine had long sensed Kennedy and Hornblower’s stiffness at the polite banter about the Renown between Buckland and herself, she took her due and withdrew from the conversation. And so far into the meal, not another word was spoken. 

Catherine could not place where this oppressive silence had resonated from. It was only after the last pea scooped up, the last piece of salt beef speared that she finally hit upon something of interest that may explain her observations. Mr. Bush had inquired about the nature of their captain, James Sawyer. The other lieutenants, Buckland, Hornblower and Kennedy had immediately stiffened and exchanged a series of perplexing glances. Catherine raised an eyebrow at the question. James Sawyer’s reputation as a national hero after his exploits in Lord Nelson’s fleet at the Nile and Cape St. Vincent. 

Surprisingly however, Buckland, after a long hesitation, had replied laboriously, “The captain, Captain Sawyer is a very …..er..generous man and liked by everyone who served under him.”

Buckland’s reply started hesitant but finished with a monotone filled with a forceful air of finality. He also made an elaborate stress on the word everyone. Catherine raised her eyebrow slightly and met Kennedy’s look. Did he shake his head just a little or was it a trick of the light? She blinked, but Kennedy looked away. She suddenly realised, not once has the captain been mentioned by Buckland in their previous conversation. 

Sawyer had seemed odd and easily agitated but how else would he discipline the crew? Catherine thought no more of him. It was just a coincidence. Instead she picked up the roster for the officers of the watch lying on the table. Sliding her eyes down the page, she saw that the night watches were all divided amongst herself and the midshipmen. Buckland as first lieutenant took no watches and the rest was divided amongst the remaining lieutenants, excluding herself. 

*****

The bell rang five bells. The evening chill worsened as the sun sank further down the horizon.   
Cathy felt a pang of envy at the other lieutenants now in the wardroom, most likely enjoying a glass of wine. But she pushed it away; at least night watches during winter were even worse.

“Fine sailing conditions, Mr. Porter.”

Cathy’s heart jumped right into her throat. She whipped around, stood to attention and agreed simply, 

“It is, Mr. Kennedy, sir.”

She mentally slapped herself. Judging by his actions, Kennedy seemed almost nonchalant after his last outburst. Cathy forced herself to relax, but her fingers continued to drum on the taffrail. 

“Where do you think we are headed, Mr. Porter?”

“I’m afraid I cannot guess, sir. Perhaps the West Indies?” 

“We’ll soon find out, I’m sure.”

“Aye, sir.” 

Silence descended on the quarterdeck, except for the sound of laughter and grumbles from the men’s dice game. Kennedy stood silently beside her. 

Cathy glanced at her silent companion. Did he look paler than usual? She ventured, “Are you well, sir?”

Kennedy glanced sharply at her, before offering a curt reply, “As well as I’ll ever be on this ship.”

This time she couldn’t stop her eyebrow from disappearing into her hair. Reading between his words, Kennedy was unhappy. What was he supposed to mean? The Renown and Sawyer were one of the best ships and captains in the entire Royal Navy! Being a lieutenant, even a fourth lieutenant on such a ship was a great honour. Not to mention a great chance for any officer to shine in the eyes of their superiors. Promotion was important. What more could Kennedy possibly ask for?

Kennedy gave her a resigned smile. He declared, “You do not understand my words, I presume?” 

“No, I cannot say I do, sir,” admitted Cathy. 

Kennedy did not reply, but continued to stare into the sunset. His expression darkened. Silence continued to reign. 

“Sir?” 

Wellard broke the silence. Uncertainty coloured his voice, as he stared inquiringly at the lieutenants at the rail.

Cathy turned around. The corner of her mouth twitched

“Yes, Mr. Wellard?”

“Captain’s compliments, sir, he wished all his lieutenants to report to his cabin immediately.”

“We will be there immediately, Mr. Wellard,” said Kennedy resuming his lieutenant facade. 

Wellard touched his hat.

“Mr. Wellard, take my watch until I return, if you please,” said Cathy. She stood back to let Kennedy pass. “After you, sir.” 

Cathy followed him into the captain’s cabin. 

‘Gentlemen, it’s the West Indies for us,” stated Captain Sawyer, carefully laying out the sheets of maps and charts on the wardroom   
table. He proceeded further and pointed at Haiti. “Our destination, Haiti.”

“Santa Domingo, the black slaves are in rebellion against their Spanish masters,” muttered Hornblower to Kennedy who nodded. Cathy felt amused and could barely restrain her lips from twitching. 

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who noticed this exchange. 

“Yes, we seem to rely on Mr. Hornblower to keep us aware of such going on,” said Sawyer. He gave Hornblower a shrewd look before proceeding to glance around the table at everyone else. “The slave rebellion.” 

“There is a nest of privateers here.” As he pointed out a small bay on the island of Haiti, the Captain gave a ‘humph’ voicing his disapproval. 

“The slave rebellion is caused by the French liberty, fraternity ideas set by the revolution, is it not?” asked Cathy but she instantly regretted it as Sawyer turned his beady eyes towards her. 

“Yes, that is right. Liberty, fraternity and stupidity,” muttered Sawyer. “You are not a revolutionary man, are you, Mr. Porter?”

Taken aback, yet again by the Captain, Cathy answered, “Certainly not, sir.”

Sawyer gave a ‘humph’ again. His voice was scathing. “However in your previous commission on the Charlotte, your assumed mutiny   
made it different.”

“I was never charged with mutiny or even accused of mutiny except by Commander George Hillock. Therefore a mutiny never did occur   
on the Charlotte,” replied Cathy, coolly. Damn the man, why was he so strung up about the event on the Charlotte, there was no mutiny, thought Cathy.

Sawyer’s lips twitched contemptuously. 

“Indeed, indeed.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dr. Clive open his mouth, then closed it again. 

Silence reigned in the wardroom.

“There will be more action than in the Channel fleet,” murmured Bush. 

“Yes, Mr. Bush. Plenty of action you shall have.” The Captain answered, before splitting into something of an approving look. Declaring to   
the other officers seated around the table, “Now here is a man after my own heart. Plenty of action you shall have Mr. Bush.”

Sawyer had obviously taken a liking to Bush just like he had taken an extreme enmity towards her.   
Sawyer then turned to her. “Have you seen much action, Mr. Porter?” 

“Yes, sir, when I served with Captain Foster on the Dreadnought. He was er…fond… of action.”

“Of course, Mr. Porter. We are at war and I approve of Captain Foster and his ways. You are not here to criticize your superior officer.”

‘Sir, I meant no disrespect.”

‘That’s enough.’ Clive laid a hand on the Captain’s shoulder. He composed himself. 

“Along with an abundance of yellow fever, tropical heat, bad water, am I right, Dr. Clive?” The Captain continued. 

“Yes, putrid fever, poisonous serpents.” Clive muttered. 

“Hurricanes and shipworms.” Buckland added. The Captain pounced on him. 

“Hurricanes and shipworms,’ he muttered contemptuously. “Not a day out of Plymouth and you’re already out of your depth. Hurricanes and shipworms.”

Cathy wanted to help the seemingly helpless first lieutenant but decided against it. 

Clive stood up.

The Captain seems to have gained an extreme suspicion towards her that was almost bordering on enmity, though Cathy. She resumed her watch and her pacing on the quarterdeck.

The man clearly had problems that couldn’t simply be attributed to a bad day. He seems to Cathy to be someone quick to judge based only on personal prejudice and bias and seems to be highly suspicious of everything and everyone especially his officers.   
Cathy shivered again. The night has already descended and without the sun the chill was even worse. In her pondering about the captain, she had not noticed the cold. Then another thought struck her. Was Kennedy’s earlier comment referring to the captain? Did he think the captain was going to endanger the ship because of his eccentricity? Cathy paused and looked over the lower deck, waiting patiently for the eight bells that would signal the end of her watch.


	3. Chapter 3

One month passed. A fortnight passed. One month and a fortnight passed without incident. The same watches, food and the very same monotonous creaking of the sails and timbers as the Renown continued on her unwavering course towards her destination across the Atlantic. Many of the hands, after much lack of action during the time fell into a state of undisciplined laziness. They became slow to act on orders, even direct orders from exasperated officers, some even took longer to salute and eliminated the ‘sir’ when addressing an officer. While Catherine had no strong objections towards the minor eliminations, she was sure if prolonged the situation would be in a worse disposition. But their work also became slower and of a less high quality needed to safely run a 74’ gun ship-of-the-line, which worried most of the wardroom. However, much to Catherine’s surprise and indignation, Captain Sawyer, has simply refused to acknowledge the ill state of his crew. So it fell upon the already worn and weary wardroom lieutenants to set the ship back on her feet and at such an early stage of the voyage.

On a more personal note, Kennedy after his last outburst, has chosen to maintain a casual and kind attitude of a friend, which Catherine was more than happy to comply with.

"As the officer of the watch, do you think fitting to train the men on the extra casks of powder, Mr Porter?"

Buckland slowly made his way down the poopdeck. Catherine turned at the mention of her name.

"Mr Porter?" he prompted.

"Aye, sir. Perhaps the Captain should be told first," answered her.

She glanced at the high waves of the Atlantic. These were not gentle waves lapping against the hull, but neither were they the full nature of the sea, it was only a small demonstration of the awesome terrible powers of Mother Nature. To have a crew familiar with firing broadsides in such high seas was certainly a good asset to have.  
 

"Shall I inform the captain?"

Buckland muttered something under his breath, but out loud he said,   
"Please do so."  
   
Catherine raised her hand to knock on the dark oak door. She paused, hand hung in midair. Her palm felt clammy. Gently, she patted her hands on her jacket, trying to dry the sweat. No captain had made her feel this way before. She has never been afraid of one before. Perhaps knowing clearly that this Captain Sawyer held her life and that of every else aboard did little to prevent such a feeling.  
   
Taking a deep breath, Catherine braced herself and knocked.  
   
"Who is it?"  
   
The Captain's loud thundering voice passed through the door, startling Catherine.  
   
"Lieutenant Porter, sir. Compliments, sir." she answered.  
   
"Come in then."  
   
Catherine stepped gingerly across the threshold, stooping slightly as she did so. She hesitated, catching sight of the captain and Clive sitting with half a decanter of amber liquid.   
   
"Come on, speak up, man!" growled the Captain.  
   
He glared, as usual from small beady eyes. Catherine touched her hat, feeling the strong desire to be away as fast as possible.  
   
"Mr Buckland's compliments, he wonders if the hands should be given practice on the guns using the extra casks of powder."  
   
"Old Buckland can decide that for himself."  
   
Catherine still hesitated. Damn the captain for not giving a straight answer! she thought. She stared at the amber liquid in the glass before the captain.  
   
Dr. Clive swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the best French brandy.  
   
"Join us for a drink, Lieutenant?" asked Clive. He leered at the lieutenant standing before the door. Brandy sloshed in the glass as he waved it in front of him.  
   
Catherine's nostrils flared. She ignored him. But her voice was cool. "Mr Buckland can certainly decide," she agreed.  
   
Abruptly she spun around on her heels and left. Loud drunken laughter flowed from the cabin.

****

Catherine shaded her eyes from the strong glare of the sun. She could barely make out the tall figure of the first lieutenant peering expectantly down at her from the centre of the quarterdeck.

“Mr. Porter, what does the captain say?”

Catherine glanced at him stiffly. She answered him slowly, “The captain believes that you should make the final decision.”

“Really?” Buckland waved his hands about him in a flustered manner. The captain’s answered puzzled him greatly. But he was sure no good would come out of it. He sighed, unsure of the next appropriate step.

“Perhaps, we should belay the practice until the captain is in a clearer state,” said Catherine dryly.

The junior lieutenant’s suggestion seemed sensible enough. But Buckland still hesitated in agreeing. He looked at a frustrated midshipman berating an unwilling hand into putting more back in scrubbing the deck. He turned back to Catherine, and answered, “No. I give the order for you to give the men practice.”

Catherine raised an eyebrow, unable to comprehend this order as good or bad. Slowly, she touched her hat.

“Gun crews! Man the guns!” she yelled.

The reaction was much slower than Catherine had anticipated. The crew faltered before realising that an order had been given. They heard no drumming or a shout ‘beat to quarters’.

“God damn it, man the guns!” another shout resonated from Hornblower, who caught onto the intention of Catherine.

A stampede of many feet crossed the deck. Catherine ran unto the upper gundeck. She glanced at her watch. _14 minutes._ An average man o’ war can be fitted for action in only eight minutes. She sighed.

“How long, Mr. Porter?” called Buckland.

“Fourteen, sir.”

Wellard skidded to a stop in front of them.

“Mr. Hornblower’s …compliments…sir. He ..wonders if the guns should be run out again,” puffed Wellard, trying vainly to catch his breath.

Catherine turned to Buckland. But he was saved from answering by a thunderous growling of barely concealed anger.

“What is the meaning of this?!” shouted Captain Sawyer. His eyes widened as he focused on the two lieutenants and the midshipman standing before him.

Catherine was painfully aware that the entire ship seems to fall silent, watching the scene unfold before them on the quarterdeck. She was the first to recover. Glancing at Buckland’s panicked look in his eyes, she answered with as much composure she could muster, “We thought fitting to run out the guns for practice in the case of imminent action, sir.”

“I am here to decide whether the men should be given the practice or not. I am the only person aboard to decide that.”

Buckland opened his mouth. But nothing came out.

“Who’s idea was this?” Sawyer demanded. Catherine turned her steely gaze onto Buckland, her eyebrow raised.

Sawyer stared at Buckland. Then turned to Catherine.

“Which one of you was it?” he hissed. The voice rose from his throat, expelling from his mouth like an arrow and striking its target squarely through the heart.

Buckland stuttered, torn between protecting himself or his honour. Finally, he said, “..Mr…Porter.”

Catherine gripped her watch, ignoring the pain as it dug into her palm. She abruptly turned away from Buckland.

“It was me, sir,” she said through gritted teeth.

“With all due respects, but I believe, Mr. Buckland permitted Mr. Porter to act, sir.”

Catherine turned at the voice. She could recognise it anywhere, Kennedy.

Sawyer bore himself triumphantly. Shifting his glance from Catherine to Buckland, he nodded. A slight almost imperceptible jerk of the head.

“Well, Mr. Porter. This should teach you.” He directed his gaze towards the masthead.

His head whipped back to face Catherine.

“You are to take the first watch and middle watch, from eight tonight to four tomorrow morning, aloft. As for you, Mr. Buckland,” Buckland started. “you, the mighty first lieutenant, will also take the first and middle watch with Mr. Porter, and insure that no slackness will be present in the execution of his punishment. That would teach both of you to know better than to grossly disrespect your captain.. And I have ways of knowing whether I have been obeyed or not.”

Sawyer gave her one calculating look and left as quickly as he arrived. 

Catherine fumed silently, still clutching the watch.

*****

She appeared promptly after dinner, prepared to endure her punishment. Catherine’s anger had quickly dissipated after the previous events.

The second last bell of the second dog watch sounded. Disgruntled men hovered below, eager for the watch to end. Even as they travelled further south, the cool air and winds from England still followed them making the ship damp and cold.

Catherine’s woollen cloak shielded her well from this cold, but many of the men had little more than their threadbare coats. They thought nothing more than to have quickly gained their warm hammocks in the mess. The place was small, being cramped between the cannons, but it was warm. Other than that, the men were quite content. Good Captain Sawyer who was not fond of using the cat on them. That little scene between Sawyer, Buckland and Catherine was a much needed entertainment.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Catherine slowly turned around. She cracked a crooked smile.

“Mr. Buckland, sir. A warm evening, is it not?” she asked.

Buckland looked at her in disbelief. He took off his hat and scratched his head, slowly.

“No? If you want to take a watch in the middle of the night, it would be much more pleasant if it was warm,” she continued.

“What I need is a stiff drink,” muttered Buckland.

Even to her at present, Buckland’s gross dishonour has been justified by the captain appointing him as the second officer of the watch with her. Despite her current state, she still could crack a small smile at the obvious resentment and humiliation of Buckland. Catherine had to admit, the captain was still a smart man in some ways.

As the eight bells sounded to end the dogwatch, Catherine promptly climbed aloft onto the mizzentop. The area was cramped and allowed only standing space. The sailor there stared at her in amazement as she climbed on from the shrouds.

“Sir?”

“You are relieved from this position, I’m to take the watch here for the next two watches,” she said simply. “Go down below.”

The man grinned as he went over the side. Catherine sobered. The rocking of the ship on high seas was felt more strongly on the mizzen then below. She held onto the mast with one hand, as she tried to regain her balance on the precariously set platform. Peering into the darkness, nothing could be seen. Not another ship was within miles of the Renown. Catherine relaxed slightly.

The image of the fourteen minutes on the watch was branded into her mind. Twice the time needed for any other average man o’ war. If no action occurs for the rest of the voyage, what would happen when they were finally going to confront the enemy at the end of the voyage? She shifted her position slightly, transferring some weight to her left leg.

The eight hours passed in a whirl. She was kept awake by the constant fear of falling. Her legs were stiff from lack of space. But at least in the whirlwind of troubled thoughts and physical discomfort, the time passed quickly enough. Catherine slid down the last few riggings and landed awkwardly onto the deck. She straightened her coat, tucked her glass under one arm, and marched onto the quarterdeck. Sawyer, it seems, has taken pains to wake at such unearthly hours to witness the punishment. Obviously, at the end of her punishment she was in a much worse state of mind than she had mounted the mizzentop and not just because of her physical discomfort.

More than ever before, Catherine felt scared. 


End file.
